


Voltron: Echoes of a New Age

by Delacroix



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Defenders of Tomorrow, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-10-19 07:57:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20653814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delacroix/pseuds/Delacroix
Summary: Year 2189. The once noble Altea is now little more than a tirant. Decades after the defeat of the Galra, conflicts continued to arise in the Universe. In order to maintain the peace established by the Paladins of Voltron, the Galactic Coalition established a universal government, a connective organism that would unite the different cultures of the Universe into a single one, thus creating a mutual understanding that would end all conflicts. Altea, head of the Coalition, was granted the privilege of becoming the determining force in this reshaping. However, this tiranny wasn't unchallenged and it wasn't long until rebellion started to thrive in the Universe. But Altea had grown greedy and wasn't ready to give up its power. The Altean Empire was born and would go on to rule the Universe with an iron fist. In a Universe where the Altean supremacy is the order of the day, other species are at the end of the food chain. The Earth is yet another planet under the dominion of the Altean Empire and like any other human, Leandro Sánchez has no ambition but to dodge death for as long as possible. Soon he will discover that he is meant for much more than taking pictures and that his actions may rewrite the future as well as the past.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: credits to @keith4dead and @captainlumin for the characters of Leandro and Akira as well as the idea of a dystopic future AU of Voltron. However the rest of the elements are of my own creation.

My grandmother was an ominous woman. Mima – that’s how I called her – liked to speak about the Old World. She told us of schools and playgrounds, of a time when the Altean Empire didn’t exist and the world didn’t live at the edge of life. To us, it sounded more like a myth than ancient history. But to her it was more real than the present, it was like yesterday. I always got the impression that Mima lived a life beyond time and space, and I envied her for it. She died some time ago, on her own terms: at home, surrounded by the people who loved her and whom she loved. And with me holding her frozen hand. I will never forget that coldness spreading through my body, as if a part of me was dying with her. I was the last person she talked to, I will always be.

“You don’t look sad that I’m dying Leo. I’m glad. You know, my great-granduncle believed that death isn’t the end and birth isn’t the beginning. I believe that too.”

“I don’t think that’s possible Mima”

“And why wouldn’t it be? How do you know you haven’t been alive before, in another body, as another person?”

“Because I don’t remember.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing, _mijo_. What if we are not meant to remember?”

I gaped.

“Don’t worry, Leo. I don’t need an answer I already have. Just remember _amor_, that anytime is good to start changing the past.”

I try not to think how disappointed Mima would be with my choices. But sometimes I do wonder what expression she would make if she knew I am a snitcher. Probably not a nice one. I know because that’s the face I would pull. I guess that’s good though. It means I am not completely remorseless about tipping off the Alteans who enslaved my planet, about a bunch of innocent folks like me, doing illegal stuff. I am trying to survive too, and this way has worked so far. However, I am no fool, I know I won’t last. That’s why every night I lay uneasy in my bed, waiting for someone to come cut me because of my treachery. It was hard at the beginning, being constantly alert. But now I am used to it. Now I never close my eyes, I never let anyone see me and I never trust.


	2. Stranger Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack:  
1\. “Midnight City” – M83  
2\. “Stranger Things” – Kygo feat. One Republic  
3\. “Oblivion” – M83 feat. Susanne Sundfør

* * *

* * *

If you really want to ruin a song, set it as your alarm tone. I rise and get dressed hurriedly. I have a date in fifteen minutes. Before I get out of the window, I check I have everything with me. At the last instant, I remember what happened the last time I went to the races and I decide to bring my blasters. I climb the emergency ladder and once in the rooftop, I take a little run and jump from the building. With my knees bent close to my chest, I reach for the little switch in my boots. Then I fly.

There’s nothing like the city at midnight and I’m not saying this because that’s when I snitch the most. I love the feeling of jumping around the rooftops, hidden from the world. Actually, people would see me if they just looked because there are so many neon lights. But they never do. I guess that the buildings are so high these days that people just assume that no one is foolish enough to use them - maybe I am a fool after all. Or maybe it is they no longer have something to look up to.

The sky has a special attraction for me. If I had to choose between earth and sky, I would always choose sky. Except, I wouldn’t say that I belong with the sky either. There’s just something so enjoyable about standing over a void, a feeling that is not about the adrenaline of being close to death. It is not the possibility that my propellers may malfunction and I may fall to my death, but just the opposite. What if they don’t? Where’s the limit? How many times can I reach the horizon? I guess they gives me perspective, those seconds, when the world lays at my feet and I almost forget that I’m falling eventually. I just admire the city, the skyscrapers, the freedom of standing between sky and earth while belonging to none. But I must fall and that certainty makes me cold. At least I end up falling with style. As you see, commuting is always bittersweet for me.

Once in a blue moon, there are illegal races near the docks. That’s where I am heading. It’s a great opportunity to earn lots of money in bets, buy illegal substances, get some bootleg goods or finding someone in need of sex. For me, this is where I collect pictures of possible persons of interest. There’s such concentration of illegality that someone must be hiding from the Alteans. It is pure statistics. The reason why they take place in the docks is that it’s well protected from sight by the factories and pavilions, and close enough to the city so that the noise doesn’t ring on the alarm. Moreover, it is easier to escape by sea. Even Alteans cannot control every liter of water in the ocean. These people are smart but too basic, I think. They lack creativity. That’s why someone will catch them eventually.

I choose a high floor in an abandoned building. It offers me great views of the gambling area and the finishing line. I take out my camera and a potent conic lens - I will be needing a lot of zoom to see their faces decently. I also take out my left blaster and place it close to me. As always, just in case. You can never be too careful these days. When I’m taking pictures I feel slightly exposed, because I never separate my eyes from the camera. If I happen to look up, even just for a second, I may miss something. At first, I just scan the area and shoot some random people. Then there’s some rumble down there and I look for the source of it.

A new competitor seems to have arrived. Red jacket and motorcycle, he walks in a familiar catlike fashion, stealthily. He dismounts and I decide to snap a picture, again, just in case. As my finger rests uneasy on the button he looks at me. Not in my direction, but at me, into my eyes. Objectively speaking, he cannot possibly see me, yet that’s how I feel it. At some point between where I am and where he is, our eyes have crossed each other, and now mine is with him and his with me. We have seen each other. He shakes his head and the little ponytail on his crown wiggles funnily. I snort silently. Foolish as I am, I imagine we are connected. I dream awake that somehow, our souls already know each other. I must sound like a crazy creep, but believe me when I tell you that this very instant, there are stranger things happening in this city.

Now I am struggling to recover my concentration and focus on other people. But my eyes keep coming back, inevitably drawn to his as if he was a black hole. So many of these times, he turns out to be looking at me too. I know he cannot actually see me, but I sense he is throwing short glances like… how do you call them. _Estrellas fugaces_. I reckon I’m checking him out a lot more than is necessary. He has a beautiful body, I say to myself. Not particularly slim, but well framed. I can tell that he is a big shot in these circles because people keep joining their heads and murmuring to each other whenever he passes by. I snap several pictures of him. They aren’t too good, but now I can look better into the most distant parts of him. The curve of his neck, the short hairs out of his ponytail… Ugh, it is happening again. I am becoming obsessed with him. Now I won’t be able to stop until I catch him.

The race is about to start. Bookmakers and their clients gather around, shouting, fiddling with money and accounts. Riders line up, carrying out last minute adjustments. This boy joins them. He puts on a pair of goggles and stands in position. When the starting pistol is fired, he leaves everyone behind in a matter of seconds. He crosses the finish line so much before any other contestant, when people are still getting into the mood with their glowing sticks, their screaming and whistling. He continues driving until he reaches the betting area and when he lowers his goggles I snap another picture. Pale and sharp, with wide eyes and a pointy nose. Just your average, dark, dreamy mysterious, fantasy-fiction face. About to be pasted in each wall of this city. Then I hear the sirens and my focus goes off. People down there realize they are coming for them and reasonably, they panic. I stand starstruck, looking for the handsome boy. I see some taking the underground network, others running away in their respective vehicles or straight up diving into the water. As the area starts to clear I come to my senses and notice that damn, I too need to run away! I tend to forget that to the Alteans, it doesn’t matter if I am a snitcher. I am still a human. If they catch me in illegal activities, I am as done for as any other earthling.

I put the camera into my satchel and grab the blaster looking for an escape route. The roofs are a big no-no because humongous ships are hovering over the factories. I don’t know the tunnels well enough to get in and out of them safely and there’s no diving without ruining my camera. The sirens are getting closer. A nearby explosion sends me falling backwards. As my head hits the floor I bite my lip and think, _Damn_. I know it’s over. I go through all the faces of my family, my siblings and my parents. And at the end, I hear mima’s voice as if she was by my side. _“You know, my great-granduncle believed that death isn’t the end and birth isn’t the beginning. I believe that too.”_ It doesn’t make me feel any better. I look at the blaster she gave me and the need to survive kicks in like an adrenaline shot.

I get back on my feet, grab the blaster and run downstairs. I crouch at the entrance to the building, holding my blaster tight. Then, one of the ships opens fire against the former betting area. When the fire ceases, I take my chances before the dust settles and I run looking for an entrance to the sewers. The underground network is still a liability, but it is still safer than staying on the surface. Especially now that the foot soldiers are starting to check out for survivors. Even if I keep silent I don’t have much time, so I move faster.

Finally, I find it. It is quite exposed but if I open the manhole fast enough, no one has to see me. Of course, life is of an ironic nature, so the manhole immediately becomes the battlefield for some Altean soldiers and a rogue fighter with a weird sword and a red jacket. Shit. That’s my boy.

Right now my mind is divided. On the one hand, there’s this survival instinct that urges me to find another manhole. This is the rational part that knows that my family’s safety depends on me and that if I die, so do they. On the other, is my refusal to leave the boy behind. This part hasn’t thought of what may happen if I stay by his side. It hasn’t thought about winning and escaping, or losing and dying. This part is only interested in being with him and doesn’t really care about anything else. If I was a logical person, I would agree with the first half and ignore the second one, on account of its childishness and randomness. But more and more, I am feeling quite childish and random myself. I cannot get rid of the sensation I felt when I was looking at him from the roof. Up there, dodging each others’ looks, I was normal and happy for once. We were like a couple exchanging looks in a club, like children looking longingly at each others’ toys, like players glaring at the other team. We were what humanity was before the Alteans became tyrants. If I don’t care about him, then I don’t care about feeling normal and happy anymore. If I leave him behind, I also leave my hope for something different, for us to become what we could have been.

The boy has taken down a couple of short distance fighters. I take my second blaster and search for the sniper. They have to have a sniper, but I can’t find it. A light flashes to my left and I shoot it down. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boy’s surprise and what is most important, now I know the sniper is on the second floor of a nearby building. I shoot several strong blasts to the columns of the first floor and the building collapses. I am admiring my work of art when the boy screams at me with anger.

“What are you waiting for?! Get on, you doofus!” he screams.

Dazzled, I smirk and run towards him. While he’s starting the engine, more soldiers are appearing.

“I’ve got this!” I say and shoot at them. I hope he looks impressed.

“Get a hold sharpshooter! We are taking off!”

As soon as I embrace him, he speeds up. We are going so fast I almost feel like we have left my body behind. Actually, an out of body experience would be a good explanation for my current state of mind. I am laughing hysterically. I know I should be worried for the consequences of my actions but I can only laugh and smile until I can’t take it more. Then I close my eyes, hide my face on his nape and hold him tighter. I don’t really know where we are going, but I can’t be bothered to care.

“Rest now” he says patting my hands. “Maybe later we can frame that little picture you took earlier”

Like that, my body tenses again. I go back to who I was before this crazy episode in my life. A photographer caught in the cross-fire. Now it doesn’t matter how well I hide my body or how far my mind wants to go. The future lays clear to me and it is not nice. I thought I knew I couldn’t trust anyone, because it would be the death of me. I even thought I was ready for that. But I thought… he was different. _Another lonely star-crossed loverboy sentenced to death by his own unrequited love_, I say to myself. What a cliché.

“I’m Akira, by the way.”


	3. The Road Not Taken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack:  
1\. “Talk Me Home” – Stonefox  
2\. “High Hopes” – Opposite the Other

* * *

* * *

My line of work has thrown me into all sorts of icky situations, like that one time I was buried alive by extremely neat Olkarian biotechnology. Of course, there are situations that are not as deadly, but just plain old uncomfortable socially speaking – a.k.a that time I was working in the Red District and I accidentally snapped a picture of a businessman with a finger up his nose. Long story short, he saw me and there were several very uncomfortable seconds of us looking at each other from across the street. The poor man was probably sweating over small questions like a) “Did he catch me on tape?” and b) “Why would this child want to take a picture of someone picking his nose?” I, on the other hand, was questioning my life choices. Then, there’s the next level of social uncomfortability, where I happen to find myself. I am talking of having to stay at the house of the dude you were trying to snitch on, with no clue of his mental state or intentions. I mean, it’s been three days and he hasn’t mentioned the picture again. He just sleeps a lot, cooks horrible horrible food for both of us and polishes his sword. Maybe this last thing is his passive-aggressive way of threatening my life but honestly, I wouldn’t know because he hasn’t said a thing. I do catch him looking at me from time to time and we do hold each others’ gaze for a couple of seconds but I cannot ascertain what those eyes are telling me. Why is he keeping me here for so long? What does he want from me? Kill me? Do my hair? Does he want me to cook him some tamales? Which then again, I totally would do because, and I cannot stress this enough, his food tastes horrible. Not to mention the dimension-jumping wolf that keeps trying to eat my satchel.

As you can see, I’m a little bit over the top here. Now, I get this must be a weird situation for him too, but the way I see it, three days is what took Christ to resuscitate. So if Jesus can come back to life in just three days, I think that it is a long enough period of time for Akira to gather his thoughts. There’s also the fact that, what the hell, I deserve to know if I’m being kidnapped.

“Can you please tell him to stop munching my bag? I have precious cargo here”, I ask him.

He looks at me in a funny way, with his lips closed tight, as if he just remembered that he is keeping a high functioning human in his house.

“Oh, sure”. He whistles and the wolf goes to sit by his side. “He is a she, by the way”.

“So what’s her name?” I ask trying to bond over his intergalactic pet.

“Oh, no idea. She hasn’t told me. I guess she isn’t ready yet”

“Sure thing”. I am now 50% more concerned about my wellbeing. I mean, how mentally stable can Akira be when he is waiting for his pet to tell him her name? And since he has a sword, I think I really need to assess my situation. If I’m going to die soon, I’d really like to know.

“Okay man, I have to ask. What exactly are you planning to do with me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you going to kill me for taking that picture?”

“What? No!” he answers horrified.

“Then will I be allowed to leave eventually?”

“You…are free to leave whenever, if that’s what you want”.

Akira looks down to the wolf and starts petting her with a morose expression. That makes me feel bad. I mean, I know he has been torturing me with his lack of culinary skills, but Akira doesn’t seem to be a bad kid. And it seems like my wanting to leave has really hurt him for some reason. Not that I don’t want to leave anymore, but maybe I could have phrased it differently. He did save me from the Alteans, after all.

“Sorry. I think I have spent too much time in the back streets”.

“It’s okay”, he says. He smiles warmly, in a way that makes me feel like someone’s squeezing my heart. I’m glad his expression is a little bit more relaxed, no more pressure on the brow. Although he looked rather cute with his little nose all wrinkled…

“One more thing though. Aren’t you scared that I might hand you over to the Alteans?”

“I hadn’t really thought about that, to be honest”

“But the picture…?”

“I just wanted to see if it was any good”, he explains hurriedly.

“Oh. Okay”.

As I put on my boots and grab my satchel, I catch Akira looking at me longingly. I want to ask him why he brought me to his house if he wasn’t going to ask me anything, what it is that he wants from me. But I am afraid to ask, because if he keeps staring at me with those eyes that found me in the cold dead night, I may give it to him. I may stop giving a fuck about… everything.

“I’m leaving then”, I say at last.

“Okay”.

He rises and opens the door for me. Quiznak, he’s still looking at me with those funny eyes. As if he was losing something for the second time. The funny thing is, I know how he feels. We are like a couple of lovers from one of Mima’s old books, lost to each other long time ago and reunited, only to have to part ways once again. I hate that feeling of having to let go against my will.

“The name is Leandro”, I say before closing the door behind me.

I don’t know why I did that. It was a stupid thing to do. Anything that can happen between Akira and me will only lead to tragedy, it cannot possibly work. But I have been forced to give up so many things already. Is it really that wrong of me to do this, to want this one little thing? I just… I couldn’t give up on him completely, not after all these sensations, all these inklings I’ve had about us. So maybe, if all wasn’t only in my head, he’ll find me. Maybe our paths will cross once again. And maybe we won’t have to leave each other ever again.


	4. Lost Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack:  
1\. “Visions of Gideon” – Sufjian Stevens  
2\. “Lost Without You” – Ben Woodward

* * *

* * *

Photos should always be processed following the old ways. I get that digital versions are more convenient in this our era of technology and that we live in busy times that leave little to zero time for traditional work bla, bla, bla…. But I swear the experience is worth the time. You see, it’s about the destination as well as the journey. The sound of the paper coming in and out of the liquid, the orchestra of drops falling as they please from the hanging pictures, the labyrinth of strings and the weight of a real photograph on your hands. Admittedly, the red light can be perceived as creepy. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the color red though. It’s just another neon light to me. But I understand it has certain connotations. Lust, sex, violence, blood. Although to be fair, blood is more black than anything else and if you look at it closely, everything else is just random associations. Once I read that in China it was the color of luck and happiness. What I mean is there’s a lot that is just a meaningless social construction that has been drawn to appear logical

The pictures come out nicely. I was worried I hadn’t got enough to satisfy the Alteans, but as I go through them I spot at least 15 fellows that could be charged with a felony, should the government feel like feeding the masses a false sense of security. There’s also Akira, lots of him. Even after discarding the ones where he didn’t show me his face, there are five of them. He appears dreamy in all of them, but not like he used to. When I first saw him, I felt like he had this aura of irreality, a supernatural beauty that made you feel like you were being cheated into something dangerous by a trickster god. Not anymore. After watching him in his home, running after his wolf while trying to give her a bath, he looks much more real to me, more endearing. So where I only saw the sharpness of his nose, now I can also see his chubby cheeks. Honestly, I like this view better.

I briefly consider taking them out of the bundle and keeping them to myself, but I decide against it. A week has passed since I left his apartment and he hasn’t come to find me. I suspect that it must mean that he hasn’t been looking for me. A guy like Akira looks like he’ll find whatever, whoever he wants to find. It was all in my head after all. Since he is nothing to me, it doesn’t matter if I bust his ass. Or so I tell myself. I must be pulling a painful expression right now. I really wished for it to be not only in my head. I wanted him to feel the same hunch and the realization that he didn’t makes me feel unlovable. Like I’ll never have one of those epic love stories that Mima told me about. No red Simon for this Blue, no unconditional Mr. Darcy for this undignified Lizzy, no charitable Jane Eyre to settle for this unsightly Mr. Rochester. I just hoped that he had been the one who loved me forever. God knows I need to feel loved.

I shake my head and picture the intrusive thoughts flying away from the tips of my curls. I know it is my self-esteem talking, but in the dark corners of my mind, a voice tells me it may be right after all. Ugh, I hate that I’m always like this. I’m never able to remain in one mood for long, whether good or bad. I’m so unstable. Inside me, there are two opposite forces that are always pushing and pulling. There’s never silence in my head, I never have an instant of peace… I really shouldn’t be surprised that Akira didn’t want to get involved with me. He did spend a considerable amount of time staring at me. He must have seen. I know we barely talked, but sometimes I feel like people can peek inside my head just by looking at me. As if they could tell that there’s something wrong with me just by my appearance. Once they get that first peek, there’s nothing I can do if they reject me. You cannot force someone to like you. So sometimes you want someone that doesn’t want you back. I wish Akira had wanted me, but I regret nothing. I owed it to myself to follow my instinct, to give in to my whims for once. I took the plunge and the pool turned out to be empty. So what! It hurts and it sucks, but life is like that sometimes.

I take the pictures and put them in an envelope. It’s his loss anyway, I tell myself. The most epic love you can receive after all is your own. And let’s face it, I will never find someone who understands me like I understand myself. I decide I’m going to treat myself to some frozen yogurt. It’s been forever since I had a second to spare.

I put the envelope into my bag and get out of my studio humming. I’m going to Rosita’s. That woman has a gift for making yogurt, I’m telling you. And, she grows her own strawberries. The real deal, not those overgrown ones full of water. The ones that pop in your mouth when you chew them and you never know if they are going to be bitter or sweet. I once dragged one of her nephews out of a smoking den, so she always gives me a discount. She wanted to give me some sort of voucher so that I could get frozen yogurt for free forever, even after she had passed, but I rejected her offer. No one is rich enough these days to give away anything. No one human anyways.

“_Ay Leandro, hermoso_. When are you gonna get a pretty one? I can introduce you to one of my nephews or nieces. Lucía and Carlos are very pretty now”.

“A little bit too young for me, Rosita. _No soy un asaltacunas_”, I answer. We laugh but a part of me goes back to Akira and starts to feel bitter. “I recently thought I had found someone. But he didn’t feel the same”, I find myself saying.

“¡Ah!_ ¡Qué le jodan!_ His loss! Where’s he gonna find someone as perfect as our Leandro? What a tasteless man!”, she protests.

“That’s what I say!”

We laugh again. But it’s only momentary. Soon I start feeling my lips pouting. Rosita pinches my cheeks to force me to smile. She smiles at me sadly. Rosita knows well what it is like to lose a love. She throws in some chocolate chips and sends me off.

That woman reminds me a lot of my Mima. She would have reacted in the same way. Mima was all about loving yourself and treating people with kindness, but taking shit from no one. They were real good friends. Mima helped Rosita open her kiosk and taught her how to grow strawberries. She used to spend every afternoon with her. Rosita would serve the yogurt and Mima would throw in the toppings. Even when she couldn’t walk anymore, Rosita would come home and push her chair to the kiosk. “Margarita! Don’t you go around thinking I’m gonna spare you any work because you cannot walk. You still have hands, don’t ya?” I think Mima liked that. It must have made her feel useful, wanted. The shop remained closed for a month after she passed away. When it reopened, little Carlos told me her aunt had been crying her heart out. Rosita caught us and she just smiled at me exactly like she has right now, with the very same sadness. For both of us, Mima was someone irreplaceable and we bonded over her loss. I suspect Mima must have asked her to keep an eye on me. That’s why I secretly believe they must have had something, if you know what I mean. She wouldn’t have asked something like that from anyone that wasn’t her loved one.

I sniffle a little bit. I always get a bit nostalgic when I eat Rosita’s yogurt. I can almost feel Mima’s hand on my shoulder or her voice in my ear, telling me to finish it before we arrived home. She spoiled me rotten, Mima. Always bought me all the sweets I wanted, even if she didn’t have enough money to waste it on my whims. I wonder if she ever went hungry because I asked her too much of her. I wish I had taken care of her properly. I know she loved me with all her heart, but I cannot shake the feeling that I never treated her fairly. I always received much more than I gave her. I disappointed her in life and now I disappoint her in death. God, I miss her so much, I want her back. I hurry and search my pockets trying not to drop the yogurt. Then I feel a handkerchief against my left cheek, getting wet with a single tear.

“I finally found you”.

I grab the cup with both hands and push it against my chest, trying to feel the coldness soaking my clothes and my skin, down to my heart. Akira.


End file.
